


The Light Above St. Agnes

by Becky_J_1022



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pure and simple, honestly I love that tag, that's what this is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-14
Updated: 2016-06-14
Packaged: 2018-07-14 23:51:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7196543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Becky_J_1022/pseuds/Becky_J_1022
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Ronan shows up at St. Agnes, full of pent-up anger and energy,  Adam knows just what he needs....and in the end, it's what Adam needs, too.</p><p>Alternate summary: Ronan has literally no idea how to talk about his feelings. He should probably learn that skill in the future, but right now, there are more satisfying ways to vent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Light Above St. Agnes

**Author's Note:**

> We could all pretend this has any content other than smut, but then we would all be living in a veil of lies. This is my guilty one-shot before I return to ~serious~ writing. Special thanks to Kelly for giving me the best, most serious editing suggestions for smut I've ever seen.

Adam fell onto his shitty twin bed, in his shitty apartment, finally home from his shitty job. He was tired, but lately that didn't seem to bother him like it used to. He held light within him like a talisman, keeping everything that used to haunt him at bay. He laughed a bit to himself. If someone had told him a year ago that Ronan Lynch would be a source of light and joy for him, he would have scoffed and told them it would be a dark day in hell when that happened.

The dark day in hell had come and gone, and here he was on the other side, wishing for the warm weight of Ronan next to him.

A wild knock pounded against his door, the sound echoing in the tiny room of Adam's shitty apartment. He opened his eyes, sighed, and, gathering himself, rolled up and off his bed. His bare feet disagreed with the rough wood that threatened splinters at every step. Rolling his shoulders to release a few stray aches, he walked the few feet to his front door.

Opening it, Adam was unsurprised to find Ronan standing on the other side. Even if Adam had been expecting anyone else, the violent knock had removed any doubt. _Standing_ wasn't quite the right word, though—Ronan was wound tight, a tornado held on a thinly stretched leash. His eyes flickered with the remnants of whatever storm had blown him here tonight. The sharp claws of Ronan's tattoos searched for something to hook themselves into.

Ronan Lynch smiled. Even his smiles had edges made to wound. He didn't need a weapon; he had been born one.

Adam Parrish didn't flinch. He had taken many blows, and had learned to be his own shield. Adam let the smile break over him, the pieces of it rendered harmless at his feet.

“Lynch,” Adam said. He wanted to ask what had happened, why Ronan looked like he was too much electricity for his skin to contain, but Ronan wasn't covered in blood (which he sometimes was), and there didn't seem to be any bodies hiding behind him (which there sometimes were), so Adam let it be. 

“Parrish,” Ronan said, and then he was pushing off the door frame and into the apartment, forcing Adam back. Ronan's eyes had stopped their constant roaming, and now rested solely on Adam, devouring him. Adam saw his eyes trail down to his throat when Adam swallowed, following the movement. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Adam asked, knowing what the answer would be before Ronan opened his mouth to respond.

“Of course I don't want to fucking talk about it,” Ronan replied, looking back up to meet Adam's eyes. “I'd rather do something about it.” 

Adam was no longer tired. He recognized Ronan asking for permission, telling him this would not be quiet and gentle, the question hanging in the air between them. Adam's hunger for Ronan, always lurking just slightly below the surface, reared up to overtake him, heat pooling in his stomach. Ever since he had broken down the door that had held back his feelings for Ronan, they were liable to spill over unannounced, at any time. 

Sometimes, they were slow and careful and gentle.

Sometimes, that's not what either of them wanted. What either of them needed.

Adam stepped into Ronan, one hand grabbing the collar of Ronan's shirt, the other sliding around Ronan's neck to pull him closer. Adam kissed him, granting him permission, telling Ronan without words that Ronan could take whatever he needed. Adam had plenty to give.

Ronan responded instantaneously, tangling his hands into Adam's hair, pushing Adam back, pressing him against the wall. Adam loved all versions of Ronan, but hungry, all-consuming Ronan was one of his favorites. It made him feel needed, wanted, worthy.

Ronan's kisses were greedy, his lips parting, his tongue demanding and insistent in Adam's mouth. Adam tilted his head back, meeting Ronan with his own enthusiasm, his hands running lower down Ronan's sides. They were both already breathing quicker, and Ronan's hips were flush against Adam's, holding him against the wall. Adam's hands traveled to Ronan's hips, the skin bare where Ronan's shirt had ridden up, and Adam pulled Ronan harder against him while angling his own hips up into Ronan. Ronan's mouth paused as he breathed a low groan into Adam's lips.

“God, Adam,” Ronan said, his voice burning. “God.”

“I'm afraid you've confused my apartment with the church downstairs,” Adam said, smiling slightly against Ronan's mouth. 

“Smartass. I know exactly what kind of worship I'm doing right now,” Ronan replied. “And it's a very different kind than I do downstairs.” His mouth moved down to Adam's jaw, nipping fervently along Adam's skin, illustrating his point. His hands traveled from Adam's hair down to his waist, pulling Adam against him, and they both moaned at the contact. 

Ronan grasped the bottom of Adam's shirt, pulling it forcefully over his head and throwing it against the opposite wall. He leaned back to admire Adam, eyes roving down, enjoying the sight of the boy in only his faded jeans, which were hanging low and loose on his hips. His hands roamed slowly over Adam's skin. Adam allowed this for a few moments before catching Ronan's hands in his own. 

“Ronan, if I thought you were going to be tender tonight, I would have lit some candles and put on some music,” Adam said innocently. 

Ronan made a sound deep in his throat and shook his head. “You are such a fuck sometimes, you know that?” 

Adam smiled, a dimple appearing on one side of his mouth. “Then show me what you really came here for, Lynch,” he said, his voice low and suggestive. 

The fire burning in Ronan flared higher, and he pulled Adam's hands above his head, pushing him back against the wall again with an audible thump, threading their fingers together. Adam's breath hitched, and before he could catch it, Ronan was on him again, his mouth unable to stay in one spot for too long. Ronan was at his ear, his mouth, his throat, his collarbone, and Adam felt Ronan's teeth as they scraped along Adam's skin. Adam let his head fall back against the wall as Ronan moved against him, his eyelids half-closed as he lost himself to Ronan's fierce attention.

Ronan rocked against him hard, denim on denim, and Adam arched into it, groaning and straining against Ronan's hold on his arms. Ronan's lips quirked into a half-smile against Adam's neck. “Gentle enough for you, Parrish?” Ronan teased. He didn't give Adam a chance to answer as he moved to kiss Adam again, biting his lower lip, stealing the breath from his lungs, needy and rough. 

Their kisses had become less complete and more desperate, their lips brushing as they both tried to gather breath, as they both moved their hips against each other. Ronan released Adam's hands from his grip, and Adam wasted no time using them to shove himself off the wall, forcing Ronan back, running his hands up under Ronan's shirt. 

“Fuck, I need to see you,” Adam growled, curling his hands into the bottom of Ronan's shirt. Ronan raised his arms above his head, letting Adam impatiently tear it off. Then Ronan was in control again, shoving Adam over to the bed. Adam let Ronan take charge, knowing he needed this more, needed to bleed off whatever toxic energy he had stored up. 

Adam collapsed back onto the bed, and then Ronan was on him again, shifting until his knee was between Adam's, their bodies laid out against each other. Their skin was already sticky with sweat, would have been even if it hadn't been summer. Adam could feel Ronan hard against him, and Adam, too, was uncomfortable against the pull of his jeans. 

Ronan, normally content with languid exploration, was too agitated for slow tonight. His touch was needy and insistent, and he moved his hand down between Adam's legs, pressing his palm hard against Adam's cock through his jeans. Adam groaned as Ronan moved against him, and then, wasting no time, Ronan was undoing Adam's belt buckle. Ronan's mouth never paused as he ripped the belt out of its loops, tossing it to join Adam's shirt across the tiny room. Distracted by Ronan claiming his neck, his throat, his shoulder, Adam realized Ronan had already undone his zipper. 

Nipping Adam's bottom lip once more, Ronan broke away and knelt on the edge of the bed, threading his fingers through Adam's belt loops. Adam lifted his hips, and to his surprise, Ronan hooked his fingers under the waistband of his boxers too, pulling them off with the jeans, leaving Adam exposed before him. 

Adam pushed up onto his elbows, letting Ronan drink him in. They had done this enough times by now, had explored every inch of each other, but it still sent a thrill through them both. Ronan, after a silky and heated scan down Adam and back up, locked eyes with Adam and tore off his own jeans and boxers before moving back towards Adam. Adam didn't have nearly enough time to enjoy the sight before Ronan was kissing him again, nothing between them now but skin on skin.

Ronan aligned himself until their hips were even, and Adam gasped as he felt Ronan's cock slide alongside his own. Ronan was consuming him, all hands and lips and teeth, and Adam wasn't even trying to contain the sounds escaping his throat as Ronan rocked against him.

“Tell me how you want me,” Adam murmured, breathing heavily. “Tell me what you need.”

“Jesus Christ, Adam, I can't think when you talk like that,” Ronan growled between kisses, between bites. “I want all of you. I want to fuck you until all you know is my name. Until all _I_ know is _your_ name.”

Adam closed his eyes as Ronan moved down his body, then clutched the sheets when Ronan leaned down to take Adam's cock roughly in his mouth. A strangled sound pushed itself around Adam's breath as he felt Ronan's lips wrap around him. Ronan hollowed his cheeks around the tip for a few moments, then took him deep, and Adam groaned loudly as his hips rose involuntarily.

“Jesus, Ronan,” Adam panted. “God, Jesus, do you want to fuck me or not? Because if you keep doing that, you won't get a chance.” Adam felt like his heart had decided to relocate permanently to his throat, and he could feel it beat all the way down his body.

Ronan laughed low in his throat, the vibration almost killing Adam, and then spent one more moment dragging his tongue from the base to the tip of Adam's cock, slow and tortuous, before pulling back up. 

“You're not getting off that easy, Parrish. Turn over.”

It drove Ronan crazy to see Adam like this, undone and eager and wild. Adam turned to lie on his stomach, resting his head on his arms as he looked back at Ronan. His skin was flushed under his tan, and Ronan allowed himself a moment to follow the line of his spine, the curve of his thigh, the freckles splashing across his back. Then Ronan was pushing Adam's legs apart, curling up to press hungry kisses to Adam's shoulders, and he reached underneath Adam to grasp his cock. 

Adam moaned and arched his back, pushing himself back into Ronan. Ronan groaned as the motion forced his own cock to slide against Adam's thigh. His hand kept a steady rhythm on Adam until Adam was rocking into him. “Ronan,” Adam said, gasping. “Ronan, please, God, I need to feel you.”

If it had been possible for the fire burning in Ronan to flare higher, it would have at those words. He slid his hand off Adam's cock, enjoying the low whimper he caught from Adam when he stopped touching him. He trailed his fingers around Adam's hips while he leaned over to grab the lube out of the top drawer of the bedside table. Applying a generous amount to his hand, Ronan moved down to press one finger inside Adam. Adam rocked back into the touch at once, his head coming off his arms as he pushed all his breath out in one forceful exhale. Ronan leaned over until he could whisper in Adam's good ear.

“This is your once chance to tell me to go slow,” Ronan said, not moving his finger, pausing to nip at Adam's earlobe before continuing. “After this I can't promise that I can hold back.” 

“Ronan, if you go slow right now—fuck,“ Adam said, as Ronan crooked his finger inside him, searching for a specific angle. “You came here to fuck me, so do it right,” he finished, his breathing ragged and hard. 

“Mmmm. I was hoping you would say that,” Ronan said, his own words knotted around his uneven breath. Without wasting time, he pressed a second finger into Adam, savoring the low cry that tore from Adam's throat. Ronan, true to his promise, was neither soft nor slow, pressing into Adam until Adam arched against his fingers.

“Oh, Jesus, Ronan,” Adam panted, “do that again.” Ronan curled his fingertips, pressing into Adam's prostate.

“Right there?” He murmured to Adam. “Like that?” 

“Fuck, yes, Ronan, there,” Adam breathed, his head hanging between his shoulders, his fists clawing at his sheets. 

Ronan's fingers never paused, and he watched as Adam gradually came apart beneath him, until he was a writhing mess of swear words and pleas. Ronan didn't know how much longer he could take it....every sound from Adam made Ronan want to wrap himself around him and fuck him until they were both lost to a haze of sensation and sweat.

“Ronan, God, please,” Adam said, his voice nearly a whimper. “Fuck me. Please, please fuck me.”

Ronan's self control was hanging by a fraying thread, and it snapped when he heard Adam beg. His energy, his frustration, his anger, his need, piled up until it spilled over, consuming him. 

“God, I love when you get all desperate, Parrish,” Ronan said. Without removing his fingers from Adam, he clumsily coated his own dick generously with more lube, forcing himself not to rock into his own touch.

Adam turned his head enough that he could throw a glance back at Ronan. “Joke's on you, Lynch. This is all an elaborate act.” 

“Hmm. You're a fucking convincing actor, then,” Ronan replied, and then he removed his fingers. Adam didn't have enough time to react before Ronan was replacing them with his cock, sliding into Adam in one slow, fluid motion, groaning as his hips met Adam.

“Oh, fuck, yes,” Adam let out, pushing back against Ronan. They both paused to gather themselves, and Ronan let Adam have a moment to adjust. Then, leaning over to leave marks on any skin he could reach, he began to thrust into Adam, coaxing moans out of Adam with every push. Ronan let Adam's name spill over his lips again and again, losing himself to the sharp jolts of pleasure spiking through him.

“God, Ronan, harder,” Adam said. He cried out as Ronan obliged, and dropped his head and upper chest down to rest on the sheets. Ronan pounded into Adam, and soon they were both panting and groaning as Ronan fucked Adam rougher and rougher, pouring all of his pent up emotions into it.

Ronan swore as he thrust deep into Adam and paused. He leaned towards Adam's good ear and whispered, “I want you against the wall, Adam.”

“Again, Lynch?” Adam said, rocking his hips, trying to fuck himself on Ronan's cock. Ronan's fingers dug into his hips, stopping him. Adam groaned in frustration. “In case you've forgotten, that's where we started.” 

“What can I say,” Ronan said, thrusting gently into Adam for just a moment before stopping again, earning a few well-chosen swears from Adam. “It's just one of my things.” 

“If that's how you want me, Lynch,” Adam said, voice low, “Let me up.”

Ronan pressed one last kiss against Adam's shoulder, unable to resist biting a little bit, and then he pulled away. He wrapped his arm around Adam's hips, all but dragging him off the tiny bed. Adam had barely gotten his feet under him when Ronan pushed him forward. Adam brought his hands up to catch himself before slamming into the wall, Ronan pressing against him a moment later.

Ronan's hand drifted down to loosely wrap around Adam's cock again, rolling over him at a slow speed that contradicted the pace from earlier. His forehead laid against the wall, Adam closed his eyes to savor the touch.

Too soon, Ronan was removing his hand, splaying his fingers over Adam's hipbone and pulling him back into a more favorable angle. Then Ronan was sliding into him again, and, _fuck_ , this position did have its advantages. Adam let out a moan that was decidedly indecent, especially considering he lived above a church, as Ronan moved against his prostate before thrusting deeper. 

“Ronan,” Adam breathed. “Ronan, God, yes. Faster. Please.”

“If you insist,” Ronan said. Adam could hear both the amusement and the lust in Ronan's voice behind him, and then Ronan's pace increased until he was slamming into Adam, both of them so far gone to the rhythm and the feel of skin on skin.

“Adam, fuck, I'm so close,” Ronan panted. He reached around again to grasp Adam's dick, and Adam's response was lost in his throat as he groaned and rocked his hips between Ronan's cock and hand. Ronan began to lose his rhythm as he felt the familiar coil of heat build low in his stomach and he pressed harder into Adam, letting his forehead fall to rest against Adam's sweaty shoulder. He got in a few more thrusts and then he couldn't hold back anymore, Adam's name falling from his lips over and over as he came. Adam, feeling Ronan stutter into him and his hand tighten around him, soon followed, his fingers scrabbling for purchase against the chipped plaster. It was impossible to discern what sounds were whose, their voices tangling in the air between them.

They rode out the aftershocks for a few moments together, and then Ronan pulled Adam gently back to the bed, crashing down on his back next to him. They spent a minute regaining their breath, their limbs weak with exhaustion. 

Adam pushed onto his elbows, then dragged himself over to Ronan, pulling him close and kissing him slowly and contentedly. “Well,” he said.

“Yeah,” Ronan responded. His eyes were closed, but Adam was happy to see that the crease between his eyebrows was gone.

“You want to talk about what was bothering you now?”

Ronan looked at Adam with hazy affection, smiling slightly. “Fuck, I don't even remember right now. Nor do I particularly care. I'm sure it'll come back to me eventually.” 

Laughing, Adam pulled them into a more comfortable position. Adam rested his head on Ronan's chest, Ronan's arm curling around to wrap around Adam. They closed their eyes, and an unspoken promise spun between them that, if Ronan wanted to talk, Adam would be there when he did.


End file.
